Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Stopped watch

Stopped watch
A noise you can undress
is revealed by clock hands
moving not a fraction
toward the top of the hour,

During the break,
presidents of lost countries
walk down planks
from ships onto Hudson River docks,
confetti blocks the sun,

There are times when
it would be nice to land
on an air carrier dressed
up for Halloween,
a President with a plan that won’t fly,
A nation keeps looking at its watch
and wonders
why this show isn’t canceled,
why do we keep waiting
for the good guys to arrive,
is there a way to get
to the news faster,

To find what happened
while we collected
every image on
digital memory
to be viewed when
there are neither sheep
to be counted nor
rough water to tread?

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Philosophy you open bottles with

For the glory of Candlestick Park
these matches defy
your vagrant bluster,
they light their intended ends
and. then fade to black
half—way across the pitching mound,
either curling up or bowing down
to the press box rafters.

Second of all, I would think
that you’d wish more than
a fine—how-do—you-do
in a borrowed car.
In later years,
they- who -know- such —and — such
and you—know—who
might say and even believe
that sex—wax is a very malleable thing.
One solution: practice your sailors’ knots
and keep the evidence in your back pocket,
in case you're asked about
what really went down.

Try this on for size:
hold a flame thrower
at arms length
and try to blow it out.
if you’re not able
to extinguish the flame,
you should check yourself
into the nearest
stop—smoking clinic.

Finally,soft drinks consumed
through a straw
tastes their best
when you're not laughing
or watching the horse you bet on
drop dead at the starting gate.

Monday, May 12, 2008


Needy fingers making
a path through your hair,
a new part where a comb finds
the soul under the brain
that keeps you
wondering about the world,

Lustful italics
contain consonants
that are not quite
the words we
started to speak,

Those nights, half asleep,
a small fist raps your back,
floorboards groaning
the way they do in old houses
sagging, tired lumber ,
all that's left for spring is laughter
and fear when everyone
goes out doors again after dark,
testing door knobs
with a twist of the wrist,
it wasn't you ,
you say, only the house
or some such thing,

Shared chills or beads of sweat,
the double “s” molding prevailed,
every position and posture
on the mattress a buried language,
nothing weighs less than an unwanted ton,
we change positions
as if speaking too fast for court reporters,

"I hope I don't dream" you say,
" or if I do,
let it be of a big black wall
with nothing on it,
just blackness, blackness..."

The apartment is so quiet
that the refrigerator
sings us to sleep,
a high, whistling serenade

We drift off
as headlights flash
across the ceiling
and car radios play music pulled
from the air from other states,

we drift off as the house
sinks deeper
into an earth
that wants everything returned.